A/N and Disclaimer: All right, be gentle - this is my first ever Bare fanfiction, my first ever songfic, and the first fic of any sort I've written in ages. This is a songfic based on the song of the same title, from Tales From the Bad Years (if you haven't heard the song, /watch?vkcjXJpOSE8E - Phoebe Strole more or less owns it). Also, I don't own Bare, nor do I own the song "Not a Love Story." Though I would like very much to own both. Enjoy!
It's not a love story
It's not a coming of age
It's not the kind of thing you put into a play
It's just a small story
It's just two friends all grown up
It happens, it happens, it happens one day
Why today?
"Jason..." He reluctantly pushed the boy away from him with a sigh, cutting their embrace much shorter than either of them would have liked. "Jason, we have to be onstage, remember? The next scene?"
Jason's lips found Peter's neck, reverently kissing the smooth, familiar skin. "Let them wait," he murmured, looking up at the other, his eyes distant and intense at the same time.
Peter quickly noted the strange expression, his brow furrowing. "Jason...are you okay? You seem..."
"I'm fine," he said, pulling Peter in for a breathless kiss. "I have you again, don't I?"
The old cathedral looming in the shadows
The only thing we saw amid the threat of tears.
Peter stared at crumbling statue of St. Cecilia outside the church, taking in the aged marble of the figure, the powerful melancholy in those stone eyes. Those wide, sad eyes that seemed to be too beautiful, too loving to live in this hateful world.
Everywhere, those eyes seemed to follow him.
He took a breath and entered the church, hesitating before he approached the confessional.
You say goodbye, but do you really know it's over?
You say goodbye, but do you comprehend it?
You go along, thinking things like this never change
And then they go and change...
Peter sat on the cool grass beside the newly stirred dirt, running his fingers over the headstone's inscription in a trancelike state. He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him. May was never this cold.
The dark clouds moved above him, foretelling the coming storm. He sat still, disregarding the rain that was soaking him. He whispered "Goodbye" softly to the air, but he didn't move.
Why does it keep coming back to one dark second?
We're skipping physics just to hold each other's hand
Our stomachs quake - our first mistake
To go on demanding more.
"It's only the second week of school, Jason," Peter said softly, his fourteen year old voice breaking ever-so-slightly in his moment of exasperation. "We can't just skip classes already. It's not too late to get on the teacher's bad list, you know...they keep track of these things."
Jason rolled his eyes. "But I hate science," he groaned. He glanced at Peter for a split second. "Besides, I'd rather stay here."
"But why?" Peter insisted. "What's so interesting to do he - "
He was cut off by Jason's full, strong lips pressed nervously against his own, only to quickly part, both boys pulling away almost immediately.
"Oh." Peter's eyes were wide as he stared at his roommate. Slowly, they leaned in, their lips meeting again as their hands entwined.
Until we're sleeping in a squalid dorm room
The lower bunk - we hold each other so tight
'Cause there's no room here at all
We have to spoon or we'll fall
But we refuse, we will not say the bed is too small for us.
Jason was trying find a way to strategically shift around without waking the angelic looking boy up - a nearly impossible feat in an extra-long twin sized bed. He carefully moved his arm from underneath Peter's neck, trying to shake the numb limb awake without disturbing the sleeping boy.
He heard a sigh. "I can move up to my bunk if you don't have enough room, Jason..." came the sleepy vocie from beside him.
Jason turned himself sidewise and looked down on the half-asleep boy in his bed. "I don't think so," he replied quietly, gently kissing his forehead and pulling him even closer. "There's plenty of room."
A horizon stretching out as far as we could see
I'd have you; you'd have me
As sure as time would pass
As permanent as stone cathedrals...
"Jason?" Peter murmured, nudging him gently to distract him from the game on TV.
"Hmm?" was the distracted response.
Peter rolled his eyes, seeing his boyfriend engrossed in the basketball on the screen. He'd never understand what Jason saw in it...with a grin, he grabbed the remote from beside Jason and switched it off, laughing softly at Jason's look of simultaneous outrage and horror. Before he had time to protest, Peter climbed in his lap and pushed him down on the bed, kissing him deeply, passionately as Jason lied in shock at Peter's unusual boldness. Pulling away, Peter sat above him, staring deeply into his big blue eyes with a beautiful intensity.
"I can't imagine living without you, Jason," he said, his voice barely a husky whisper. "I think I'm falling in love with you." He paused. "I know you're...you want to take it slow, in terms of actually being together, and being around people and everything. But whenever you want me, Jason...I'm your's."
Jason returned his gaze, absolutely silent, absolutely still.
Maybe if we hadn't skipped physics
We'd know everything has a decay
We hadn't learned yet
That each romance has a last day...
Peter was staring at him, a look so vulnerable and lost that Jason couldn't even meet his eyes. "What are you saying?"
Jason felt everything inside of him, his heart and soul and mind and body screaming at him to go to Peter, to take him in his arms and kiss him and tell him that everything would be all right. To make everything all right, for Peter's sake. To make sure that Peter, practically huddling on the floor, every line of his face and body showing the agony he felt clearly, never looked like this ever again.
He bit his lip, staring intently at Peter's forehead, determined not to make eye contact. "This...us, whatever..." he felt his resistance shake at the sound of Peter's labored breath, "...it needs to stop."
You say goodbye, but do you really know it's over?
You say goodbye, but do you comprehend it?
There was a time when you were sure some things wouldn't change
But that can also change.
Peter dabbed on the pancake makeup distractedly, staring at Jason in the reflection of the dressing room mirror. Tights, doublet, the whole Shakespearean look...only Jason could make his costume look so perfect.
He's not your's anymore, he reminded himself sternly, forcing himself to pay attention to his task at hand until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey...can we talk?"
Peter didn't respond, not trusting his voice.
"I talked to Father. About us."
Nothing could have prepared Peter for this news. He stared at Jason, wanting nothing more than to throw his arms around him and tell him how proud he was, how much he loved him, how he could only ever love him...he inhaled deeply. "Really?" he asked breathlessly. "And?"
He should have known.
Here was Jason, standing before him, making plans of running away together. Jason, who had left him. Jason, who wanted to be with him, as long as it wasn't close enough to anything he knew that he would have to compromise the person he wanted everyone to see. Jason, who was forcing him to say the words he never thought he would say before he couldn't handle this any more...
"Jason...it's over."
Jason looked at him, his face blank, neither defeated nor triumphant. "Okay."
It's not a love story
It's not a coming of age
It's not the kind of thing you put into a play
Nadia held him. She held him through his insisting that Jason would be okay, that Jason would be able to come through this. She held him when he started screaming, yelling in the emergency room lobby that they all did this, that Jason was going to die because of all of them, never once specifying the object of the blame. She held him as he whispered to God, to the Virgin Mary, to every saint he could think of that he wouldn't sin, that he would never so much as look at another male again, that he would devote himself to the church, that he would go to third-world countries and feed the hungry...anything to have Jason back. She held him when he started crying, when the tears started and didn't stop for the next six hours.
She sat with him as he stared numbly at the crucifix at the front of the sanctuary, holding his too-cold hand as they sat in silence. She wrapped her arms around him as she whispered, "At least he had you. At least he knew that the love of his life loved him back before he died."
He shrugged her off, sitting still and cold. "This isn't some love story, Nadia," he said. His voice was hoarse from his week of absolute silence apart from his sobbing. "This isn't Shakespeare. This isn't someone's art." He stopped, searching for the right words. "This was your brother's life."
A tear trickled down her face. "I know," she whispered.
It's just a small story
It's just two friends all grown up
Peter sighed, a smile on his face as he curled up on Jason's warm chest. "You think we'll always be like this?" he asked dreamily.
Jason stared off for a moment, that sad, other-worldly glance, before grinning down at his boyfriend. "God, I hope so. The sex is phenomenal."
Peter shoved him playfully, giggling as they instinctively kissed.
It happens, it happens
It happens one day.
Why today?
Matt was standing the podium, fumbling through what sounded like an apology that he was making a speech. Peter simply stared at the stained glass windows, seeing the same blue of Jason's eyes everywhere. He heard his voice in the music. He smelled his cologne on the valedictorian stole that was hanging on the empty chair directly in front of him. Everywhere, there was Jason.
He looked out at that blue, smiling softly into it. "Goodbye," he whispered.